


Failure

by Omeganixtra



Series: a map 'cross the stars [11]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cayde's Death Was Felt By Many, Coping with Grief, Irrational Behavior, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 19:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra
Summary: It wasn't just the Hunters who felt the ripples that Cayde's death left behind—they couldn't just hoard all the grief for themselves. Zalli's proof that there are those among the other Factions that feel just as deeply.





	Failure

**Author's Note:**

> finally got to Forsaken with my Titan — feels happened and this is the result

“Do you think that we’ll _ever_ catch a break?”

“ _Doubt it with the way the upstairs are acting_.”

Zalli leans back against the railing enclosing his small balcony as he adjusts the bowtie around his neck. He’s just about ready to go nuts with how much Tora’s been up and about with that damn gathering.

He doesn’t want to go.

It hasn’t been the same since everything shattered back in the Fall, when he watched his friend leave with the Vanguard full of life and come back with a corpse and a hollowed shell wearing her face instead.

He doesn’t want to go.

“ _Hey, you still there, Zal_?”

He can hear Tora nattering in the background but it sounds as if his ears are filled to the brim with thick liquid. It mutes everything, even the noise coming from the city below him. It’s late at night so there’s not a whole lot of colors going around, but there’s enough light for him to get a look at the droopy plants growing in the neighbor’s plant-box.

A neon sign catches his attention. It’s further down the street, a giant pink monstrosity of a sign if there ever was one.

A bar. _Their_ bar.

 _Hell yes_ , he thinks.

Zalli snaps shut the phone, ignoring the increasingly annoyed Tora, throws it into his back pocket and is out of the door before he can talk himself out of this and just head towards the party instead.

It’s beginning to rain as he walks down the sidewalk, those really big, fat droplets that make an audible sound when they collide with the concrete and asphalt.

Zalli’s never felt freer.

His bowtie lies somewhere behind him, crumbled and abandoned—elation has taken the spot that his gloom occupied before.

If he’s lucky then he’ll find her down there, down by the bar and they’ll be able to talk, fix things, and then… then they can become a team again! A real proper Fireteam that nothing can stop, no matter what’s thrown at them.

The neon sign closes in on him, bathes him and the now-soaked sidewalk in an eerie, translucent light.

When he comes to the door he stops. Something, he doesn’t know what but he _hates it_ , is trailing up beneath his collar, ripping into his spine. He ignores it. He ignores it and reaches for the door, opens it and is immediately blasted with something that’s technically _supposed_ to be music, but it’s almost impossible to tell with the amount of bass that’s booming over everything.

Zalli goes in anyway.

Maybe he’ll be lucky.

…

He’s not, though.

She’s not there.

“Haven’t seen her for weeks, but then suddenly she shows up out of _nowhere_ ,” the bartender, an old acquaintance, says when Zalli steps up to the bar and asks. “Usually she’s down here from around sunset.”

But she isn’t here. The sun went down three hours ago. It’s winter, it never sticks around long.

Zalli’s seen her, seen _Meera_ when she came back, and even afterwards when all she did was wander around the Tower like a zombie.

His throat closes when something _hard_ lodges itself into place. His hands clench, breathing becomes _heavy_. This… this isn’t what he wanted, all he wanted was just to sit down with a good friend and talk about what’s happened, try to _help her_ , but you don’t always get what you wish for.

His phone buzzes like it’s filled to the brim with wasps—Tora, most likely, probably trying to figure out where the Hell he is.

Zalli can’t tell him, this is _their_ space.

“Damnit, she’s supposed to _be_ here!”

His hand connects with the bar table. The music is far enough away for him to hear the strangely satisfying _crunch_ that sounds when his fist makes contact with hard, polished wood. He doesn’t look up when the barkeep throws him a scathing look that promises nothing but pain if he really breaks it.

“Fuckin’ Titans,” he hears the man mutter before he shuffles off to the other part of the bar, leaving Zalli alone to stew in his anger.

Because that’s what this is—anger.

Pure, red hot anger that’s screaming at everyone around him to lay off, back away, before someone gets hurt.

This. This is _her_ fault.

All of this is!

Cayde’s death? Her fault. Everything falling to shit? Her fault. Him being in the situation of trying so hard to keep their Fireteam together but still failing? Her. Fucking. Fault.

She could have taken the position that Zavala and Ikora were on the verge of asking her to take, Hunter Vanguard.

It would only have been fitting, the protégé taking over for the master.

Why didn’t she do it? Why did she have to fuck everything up?!

 _WHY_?!

Thoughts flitter through his head, angry thoughts, furious ones, in fact. Thoughts that makes him want to hurt her, hurt Meera for doing this to them, to every Guardian out there.

She won’t wake up from whatever daze she finds herself trapped in now that Cayde’s dead. He can do it for her, force her to wake up from this bullshit she’s buried herself in. Why is it that she can’t see how Cayde’s death has affected more people than just her? Why? Why is that, exactly?

He’s stronger than her, it won’t take much to make her listen to him, he’s sure of that. All it’ll take is a few moments alone with her, shake her up, make her _see_. No one would know until after it had been done.

Zalli slumps, crashing into a convenient chair behind him and just sits there with his face buried in his hands.

What is he even doing? He’s just wasting time sitting here, contemplating… _what_ exactly?

The music around him rises in volume, the bass blasting against his eardrums. It makes him _sick_.

“What’m I even _doing_?”

Why can’t he just have an answer for himself? Why can’t just _someone_ have an answer for him?

Coming here was a mistake. A mistake he’s feeling the full brunt of now that he’s finally slowed down enough to think about everything.

He’s a Titan. One of the City’s staunchest protectors. But he’s failed. He’s failed his friend, his Fireteam, his _Vanguard_.

“What’m I even doing?”

No one answers. He doesn’t expect anyone to, either.

After all, he’s just a failure.


End file.
